


fed up with hunger

by frankoceansmoonriver



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, 1940s, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, they aren't gentle in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankoceansmoonriver/pseuds/frankoceansmoonriver
Summary: “What do you wanna talk about? How I’m gonna have to marry some girl with perfect ringlets and you’re gonna marry some girl who’s smarter than both of us combined, and you’ll be right to? What is there to talk about? Quit being a dumbass and just go to sleep.”He says it so matter of fact. He says it like none of it bothers him. Steve sighs.“Nobody is gonna marry me,” Steve says softly. He lays back down and goes to sleep.In the morning, Bucky doesn’t mention it and neither does Steve. They go back to not talking about it. Maybe they never will.Or, the one where it's 1939 and sometimes Steve thinks that having is worse than wanting.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Original Characters
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	fed up with hunger

_The world might not end, but they would. And_ that _was the forever part. Not love. Love was just something tiny and bright with eternity on all sides._

Simon Van Booy, The Sadness of Beautiful Things

1.

The movie starts and the lights go down. Bucky leans farther down into his seat and Steve smiles at him fondly. He knows Bucky loves going to the pictures. He likes to just see the beautiful faces up close, so offensively huge and perfect looking, so unlike their actual lives, though Steve wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Bucky starts to smile when the pictures roll and Steve knows he should be watching the screen but he’s looking at Buck instead; the least surprising thing in the world.

Steve begins to lose himself in the moving frames and roaring music, but about half an hour after the lights go down, Bucky’s knee knocks into Steve’s. Steve thinks it’s an accident, and lets the darkness hide the little blush that creeps up into his face at the most casual of touches. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. It happens all the time in fact. They’re always crowding into each other, it’s simple and easy. But it happens again, just ten seconds later.

Steve looks over to Buck, ready to give his shoulder a shove along with an eyeroll, but Bucky is already looking at Steve. He’s got a look about him, coy yet jarring. Bucky’s eyes flicker down to the armrest, where his left hand sits palm out.

Steve narrows his eyes, trying to understand. Bucky only nods, then flexes his fingers, palm closing and then reopening again, slow and sure.

Steve feels like his throat is closing. His already weak heart trips over itself, makes his blood pump funny. He coughs into his fist and stares at the hand, beckoning him like it’s the easiest thing life has thrown at him.

Of course, it always was.

Steve inhales, and forgets to exhale. He raises his right hand and slowly, carefully, connects his bare fingers to Bucky’s open palm. The skin is rough and warm. It jolts Steve, to feel that roughness against his own unmarred, smooth fingers. He doesn’t do hard labor like Bucky does. He doesn’t lift crates in the hot sun. He doesn’t roll his own cigarettes, tobacco getting under his fingernails. That’s all Buck. Steve exhales.

He runs his fingers along Bucky’s lifeline, then pushes his fingers into the flesh. Bucky’s pointer finger twitches. Eventually, Steve manages to lace their fingers together. Steve’s fingers are thinner and longer, and hang loosely over Bucky’s heavy palm. When Steve’s hand lies fully within Bucky’s, Bucky closes his fingers over the top of Steve’s hand. He squeezes lightly. The rough fingers rest on Steve’s knuckles.

Bucky’s eyes are back on the screen, so Steve makes himself watch the movie too. He doesn’t retain it, he loses the plot immediately, all of his attention going straight to his right hand, committing to memory the weight and the warmth.

The movie ends, and the lights go up. Bucky immediately detangles their fingers. He reaches for his jacket and then stuffs his hands into the pockets. He stands, and looks at Steve where he still sits, not really believing that the last forty minutes ever really took place.

“What’re you waiting for, you nut?” Bucky asks, and gently kicks Steve’s shin.

Steve looks up at him, wide eyed. He thinks maybe he imagined the whole thing, like his mind is finally going along with his weak body. It only makes sense. But then Bucky tilts his head and sighs. “Don’t look so surprised. Come on. We gotta get home. It’s cold out there.”

Steve stands and grabs his own jacket, and shoves his own hands into the pockets. He doesn’t trust his hands right now.

“Yeah, let’s get home.”

The walk home is cold and quiet. Steve sees his breath in front of him. He tries not to think about how he might fall ill. He’s so lost in his head he almost walks on Bucky’s heels.

“So, did you like it?” Bucky asks as they walk, looking ahead.

Steve stops in his tracks.

“Did I _like_ it?” Steve says, surprise clouding any rational thought.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, his brows pulling together in confusion. “The movie. Did you like it?”

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly. “I thought it was fine.”

“Really? I thought you woulda been real into it. It was one of those real artsy fartsy ones.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Well, what did you think?”

“Yeah. It was okay.”

Steve still doesn’t know what they’re really talking about. He bites at the inside of his cheek. He feels nuts. He just wants to make it home so he can sleep.

They walk the rest of the way in silence. It’s awkward in a way it never has been before.

Bucky unlocks the door and they hang their jackets. Steve goes to the sofa. He unties his shoes and undoes the button at his collar. He strips down to his undershirt and just his trousers. He runs a hand down his face. Bucky stands in the kitchen, sipping water out of a hopefully clean glass.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” Steve mumbles into his fist. He’s so tired. He just wants to roll over towards the wall and not think about how he and Bucky have to share a bed and that’s never been a problem before because they’ve never actually discussed anything.

“All right. I’m right behind you.”

“I _know_ ,” Steve whispers to himself. He crawls onto the bed. Bucky sits down next to him and starts to undress. He toes his shoes off and then slumps over the side of the bed. Leaning on his elbows.

“I’m beat,” Bucky says offhand. It’s like he never left his hand open and waiting and wanting. He had wanted Steve to take his hand. Steve sucks on his teeth, feels like spitting in frustration, and then speaks.

“Why’d you do it?”

It comes out so accusatory, but it should be. It has to be.

“Do what?” Bucky asks over his shoulder, still undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t even want to say it out loud. The lights are still on. It’s too bright in here. “Nevermind. Just get the light.”

“I wanted to see what you would do.”

It stings. Steve’s chest contracts painfully. “What?”

Bucky shrugs. “Just wanted to see, I guess.”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Steve asks. “I mean…are you just messing with me?”

Bucky shifts one leg up onto the bed. His eyes bore into the quilt Bucky’s grandmother knitted before she died. “No, I wasn’t messing around. Were you messing around?”

“No,” Steve says, not even waiting a beat. “I wasn’t messing.”

Steve inches a little closer to Bucky on the bed. Their shoulders brush. Bucky lays his hand out on his thigh, palm out again.

Steve laughs humorlessly. He shakes his head again. Bucky has never made him feel small before, but he’s doing a pretty bang up job now. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I liked holding your hand. So take my hand. Or sock me.”

It’s only then that Steve can see that Bucky’s fingers aren’t steady.

He takes Bucky’s hand again. In the light.

After Steve takes the offering, Bucky nods. “So you’re really not messing, right?”

“No. Are you messing with me?”

“No.”

They both stare at their interlocked hands. “Um,” Steve says softly, still not sure what anything means but only sure of his own heart.

It’s not exactly a secret to himself that he’ll love Bucky as long as he’s alive. Probably after that, too.

Bucky rests his head on Steve’s bony shoulder. He looks up at Steve with big blue eyes. Steve dips his head down so that their foreheads touch. He can feel Bucky’s breath warm on his cheek. It makes him shudder.

“Okay,” Steve says and just does it, the only thing left to do.

He kisses Bucky. It isn’t perfect. Not by a long shot. It’s more his upper lip, and the right side of that, but it’s still unmistakable in meaning, and Bucky kisses back, squeezing Steve’s hand tight as he does so.

He pulls back after a few seconds. He swallows. Bucky’s lips had been dry and warm. He doesn’t know how to continue. Luckily, Bucky does. He lifts the hand that isn’t grasping onto Steve’s for dear life and cups the back of Steve’s head, pulling him back down.

It’s slow, in the beginning. Steve parts his lips and it deepens. He bites gently at Bucky’s lower lip, and Bucky makes a soft, whimpering sound that Steve has absolutely never heard from him before. After what, how long has it been? Fifteen years? It’s just nice to know there are still things to know about Bucky. Things to learn. Like how he likes his bottom lip bitten at. How he likes to run his tongue against Steve’s. How he breathes harder when Steve runs a hand through his hair and pulls a little.

Steve doesn’t know how long it lasts, with Bucky still resting on his shoulder, but they kiss in a mostly innocent way for a long time. He’s trying desperately to ignore how hard he is. He thinks he’s doing a decent job of not getting carried away until Bucky whispers his name.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. He knows how red his face is. He can feel that he’s blushing all the way down his neck and over his clavicle. There’s no hiding it. Bucky lifts his head off Steve’s shoulder.

“Just wanted to look at you,” Bucky says. His lips are wet. He’s clenching his jaw, a habit that Sarah Rogers always warned him about. He does it when he’s nervous, or scared, or angry. Maybe he’s all three right now.

“Bucky, I…” Steve trails off, not sure where to start, or even where he’s going with his words. He wants to say he’s never kissed anyone like this in his life. He’s been kissed, but not like this. Not with so much heat behind it. There’s been a few girls who were either drunk enough or pitied him enough to kiss him a little, but Bucky isn’t either of those things.

Bucky chews on his bottom lip. He looks like he’s thinking real hard, and then he kisses Steve’s neck. He bites down at Steve’s pulse point, and Steve can no longer ignore his want. He falls back onto the mattress and pulls Bucky along with him. He’s on his back and rutting up into Bucky, feeling that Bucky wants him just the same. It makes Steve groan, completely involuntary. Everything is urgent, suddenly. His hand is under Bucky’s shirt, feeling the muscles of his back. He grips hard at the bare shoulder blades. He makes sounds he didn’t even know he could make out loud. He curses, and when he does Bucky laughs, saying “The mouth on you,” in a teasing voice.

And Buck is no better. His back arches. He moans and says Steve’s name over and over. Steve thinks he’s gonna come in his pants, all his clothes still on, until Bucky has the decency to reach down and unzip his fly.

And Bucky is touching him, in a way no two men should ever touch but that can’t possibly be true because this is heaven, Steve is sure. But he wants Bucky to feel it too. He wants Bucky to feel just as good and so he reaches down and pulls Bucky’s pants down. He feels how Bucky wants him too. The weight and the heat, matching his own.

“Steve, baby, that’s so fuckin’ good,” Bucky mumbles, the words tripping over each other as they fall out of his mouth, incoherent and it’s all unbelievable but it’s the _baby_ that tips Steve over the edge. He makes a mess of Bucky’s hand and a mess of their clothes, and a mess of the sheets, and Bucky follows suit.

They pant into the pillows. Bucky laughs a little, then plants a wet kiss to Steve’s cheek. He nuzzles his nose into Steve’s neck. Steve smiles, playing at the soft hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck.

“If you’d told me this morning this was how my night was gonna end I never would have believed you.”

Bucky laughs again. “Yeah. Me neither.” He rolls off of Steve and strips his shirt off. His chest heaves. “How’s your breathing?”

“I’m fine, Buck.”

“What about your heart? Feel normal?”

He knows what Bucky means, but it feels like a loaded question all the same. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” Steve repeats.

“Good. That’s good.” He gets up off the bed to turn off the light, and on his way Steve can see how the skin of his back is red, where he’s been digging his fingernails in. He likes that. That he left a tangible mark. He likes knowing he didn’t make it up.

When Bucky turns the light off the room goes dark. Bucky comes back to bed and squeezes Steve’s thigh. “Go to bed Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, feeling how exhausted he is. His eyelids are heavy. He rolls towards Bucky, throws an arm over his waist, and falls asleep.

In the morning, the bed is cold. Steve doesn’t panic, because it usually is. He plants his feet on the floor, his socks still on.

Bucky’s in the kitchen. He’s got the radio on and he’s reading the paper.

“Mornin’ sunshine. Took you long enough.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly ten, you bum. You missed breakfast.”

“I usually do,” Steve says. He stands over Bucky, not sure what to do or say. He doesn’t know what he expected. He’d hardly been awake long enough to even contemplate it. He wants to kiss Bucky again, very much so, but that doesn’t seem on. It’s just the way Bucky’s looking at him with his head cocked to the side. “How long you been up?”

“Long enough to go out. There’s a sandwich in the fridge.”

“You went to the deli?” Steve asks, concerned. They don’t have money for that.

“Don’t worry. The Adams girl was workin’ the counter.”

Steve snorts. “Of course. You smile at her and she’d give you their entire inventory free of charge.”

“I know, I’m terrible. Just enjoy your sandwich and quit complainin’.”

“I’m not. Complaining,” Steve mutters. Why is he agitated?

He pulls out his chair and starts eating, the bread only a little stale, and the meat fresh to make up for it. He chews and swallows. He can smell the cigarette smoke lingering on Bucky still. He wishes Bucky would just smoke in the apartment. He’s gonna die of something other than smoke inhalation. It’ll be pneumonia or something much slower and painful when he goes eventually.

2.

“You’re goin’ out with Lillian Statham? You don’t even like her. You were complaining about how she never stops talking about her grandmother three days ago,” Steve says around his toothbrush.

“I don’t really have a choice. Becks set me up with her, I can’t say no _again_.”

“Sure you can.”

“She’s been buggin’ me for weeks, it’s just one date.” Bucky shrugs, and then inspects his reflection. He sticks his comb into the vat of hair gel and then runs it through his hair. Steve rolls his eyes and bites down hard on the bristles of his toothbrush. It’s so irritating, how Bucky can look so good while frustrating Steve within an inch of his life. Such is life.

Steve spits into the sink. He rinses his mouth and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Okay then, I’ll see you later. Have fun.”

“What Steve? Fuckin’ hell.”

He doesn’t know what’s more infuriating, the fact that Bucky knows what and is being purposefully obtuse or if he’s still able to make Steve feel small about all of it.

“I said. Have fun. What is _with_ you?” Steve says, as sharp as he can manage and shoulders his way past Bucky and out of the bathroom.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else before he leaves. He grabs his jacket and heads out, not even giving Steve a second glance.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s determined not to care. He works on his portfolio. He needs to take it around again.

He works for a few hours, getting frustrated by his own piss poor shading, and then falls asleep on the floor with his papers all strewn.

He wakes up with the apartment completely dark. He groans. His right arm is asleep from where he’d been resting his head. He grunts, drinks water out of his palms over the sink, and then crawls into bed. It’s well past midnight.

The door unlocks thirty minutes later. Bucky gets into bed with all his clothes still on. He’s a little drunk, Steve can tell by how he smells and how he breathes softly. He smells like perfume too. Steve just knows he slept with her. It’s not surprising. Bucky isn’t exactly innocent in that way, but still, the jealousy creeps up, grotesque and useless.

“You still up?” Bucky whispers in the dark.

“Yeah.”

“Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“No, you didn’t. You should probably take your shoes off.”

Bucky turns over and tugs his shoes off. Steve hears them each drop to the floor.

“Are you tired?”

“I was.”

Bucky rolls back over and kisses Steve’s neck. Steve pushes Bucky away.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re just cute when you’re pissed off.”

“You still smell like her, in case you didn’t know. I hope you were safe, at least.”

“Jesus, I didn’t do anything that would get her or me in trouble. Fuck’s sake. I don’t. _God_ ,” Bucky groans. He rolls off of Steve.

“You don’t what?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, what?”

“I don’t ever go all the way. I never do. I never have. I have some fucking decency, do you really think I fuck them?”

“Why would you not? If you both want to.”

“Steve. Are you serious?”

“I was?”

“Fuck you then.”

“Why are you so mad about it? You never gave me any reason to believe otherwise!” Steve sits up and stares at Bucky’s silhouette.

Bucky sits up too. He shoves Steve’s shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt. “Do you seriously think so little of me?”

“You think that would mean I think little of you? If I think you’re capable of having a nice night with a willing participant?”

“Not that. You think I would fuck Lillian Statham a week after we fooled around?”

“Oh, so we are gonna talk about it?”

“What do you wanna talk about? How I’m gonna have to marry some girl with perfect ringlets and you’re gonna marry some girl who’s smarter than both of us combined, and you’ll be right to? What is there to talk about? Quit being a dumbass and just go to sleep.”

He says it so matter of fact. He says it like none of it bothers him. Steve sighs.

“Nobody is gonna marry me,” Steve says softly. He lays back down and goes to sleep.

In the morning, Bucky doesn’t mention it and neither does Steve. They go back to not talking about it. Maybe they never will.

4.

Bucky arranges a double date a month later. The girls are as nice as they can be. Bucky’s date hangs off his arm and bats her eyelashes, completely taken with him. Her name is Sandra. Steve doesn’t dislike her. It’s not her fault. Bucky is very good looking and very charming. He can’t fault her. And she’s pretty too. They look nice together. It shocks Steve, but he isn’t jealous. He’s just tired. He sips a glass of whiskey and listens to a dark haired girl about an inch taller than him talk about baking. Her name is Jenny. Her red lipstick leaves a stain on her cigarette. Steve likes her hands. Her voice is low. Her glasses frame her face nicely.

Bucky takes Sandra out onto the dance floor. They’re both great dancers. They look so good together. Steve continues to sip his drink. Jenny is on her third. She doesn’t slur her words or say anything off cuff, but she does look sleepy.

“I’ve known her my whole life,” Jenny says. “She’s always been so boy crazy.”

“Guess there are worse things to be,” Steve says.

“Her last boyfriend used to hit her, you know.”

Steve finishes his drink. He’s lost count of how many he’s had. “That’s horrible.”

“It is. That’s why I like Bucky so much. He seems so sweet, like he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Steve laughs. “Wanna know the worst part?”

“What?”

“He’s just like that. It’s not an act. He’s just that kind. He knows how to make everyone feel special, and he likes doing it.”

“I’ve never seen two guys be as close as you two,” Jenny comments. She’s not implying anything. She blows smoke out of the side of her mouth. She smiles.

“He’s been my best friend since I can remember. Our mothers were best friends. Fate I guess.”

“That’s so nice. You two are lucky.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Steve isn’t surprised that they all leave the dance hall drunk as skunks. Sandra hides her face in Bucky’s neck. Bucky just smiles at her and pets the top of her head. He whispers something to her. “We gotta get this one home,” Bucky says, eyeing Jenny over the top of Sandra’s head.

“I got her,” Jenny says.

“Want us to walk you back?” Steve asks. It’s late, and it’s the proper thing to do.

“We don’t live far. I got a knife in my purse,” Jenny says. It takes Steve off guard, but not as much as the fact that she kisses Steve fully. Her thumb runs over Steve’s cheekbone. “You got my number. Call me, okay?”

Steve blushes down to his toes. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jenny throws an arm around Sandra and leads her home. It’s obvious this isn’t the first time this has happened.

“Come on,” Bucky says, throwing his arm around Steve’s neck. Steve’s drunk enough to enjoy it, and lean into Bucky. “We gotta get home too.”

When they get home, Bucky flings off his coat off and lets it land on the floor. He goes to the kitchen and gets their bottle of whiskey down. It’s bad stuff. Bucky had gotten it cheap. It doesn’t matter though, because they’re already drunk.

Bucky hands Steve a coffee mug filled with whiskey and he clinks their cups together.

“Looky you, gettin’ more action than me. That’s something to drink about.”

“Oh shut it. She just appreciated my listening.”

“To what?”

“Sandra’s old boyfriend used to hit her. I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you that.”

“Fuck. Makes me almost feel bad that I’m not gonna see her again.”

“Already decided? Why not?”

“Just wasn’t feeling it. Don’t wanna lie to her, do I?”

“Guess not.”

“Are you really gonna call Jen?”

“I’ve got no idea.”

“Probably should.”

“Probably.”

They sit against the sofa, Bucky’s toes poke at Steve’s socked ankle.

“Just think it over. You deserve it. A nice girl.”

Steve leans his head back on the couch cushion. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Begins just like it did. A date, stupid.”

“Remember when you dated Beth for like, four months?”

“Sure, Steve. I remember.”

“Whatever happened to her?”

“You won’t believe me if I told you.”

Steve whips his head around to look at Bucky. His vision is fuzzy, and his tongue is loose from the drinking. “Tell me.” Steve’s not asking.

“We got to drinkin’ one night, and then we went outside to smoke, and I told her that I had kissed boys before. She looked at me real weird. She never told anyone, but she also never spoke to me again. Whoops.”

“You’re right. I can’t believe you did that.”

“Yeah well, I guess I was feeling guilty about how much she liked me. I guess I didn’t want her to like me at all.”

“What other boys did you kiss?”

Bucky smiles wide. He wags a finger in Steve’s face, then taps the pad of his finger to the tip of Steve’s nose. “Nuh uh, I can’t kiss and tell.”

“But it’s _me_ ,” Steve whines.

“I know, and I’ll tell you anything you want about me. But it’s not just concerning me. Come on.”

Steve knows it’s fair, and very kind of Bucky. Still, he can’t help but ask “How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many men have you screwed?” Steve blushes as soon as he says it.

Bucky leans over, close face terribly close to Steve’s. “Just one,” he whispers.

“Oh. Does that mean?”

“The only pants these hands have been in are yours, stupid. Maybe some heavy petting in the back of Beth’s daddy’s car, but she was a very nice girl.”

“But what about the boys?”

“I got too scared.” Bucky shrugs. “Of course, I’m most scared of you, but, what’s a guy to do?”

“Scared of me? What for?” Steve laughs, not at Bucky, never at Bucky, but the thought is just so absurd to him.

“Cause…you matter.” He says it so simply, and he says it with such conviction that it leaves Steve without words. Steve can’t think of anything to say, so he closes the space between them.

Bucky lets out a soft, drunken whimper, real sweet. It’s so fucked up how sweet Bucky is. Of course, he’s just been scared. And that’s fair enough. It makes sense. They shouldn’t be together. They both know it. But Steve also knows that it can’t be all bad, because he stopped feeling guilty about his soft spot for Buck ages ago. He had to, otherwise his whole life would have been intolerable.

Steve pulls back. He tucks a loose strand of hair back behind Bucky’s ear. “Was this your plan all along? Just get me drunk and get all sweet on me?”

Bucky laughs, a quiet thing. “No. Not at all how I thought my night was gonna go.”

“Hmm, sure.”

“You wish, Stevie.”

“I don’t gotta wish,” Steve says, getting a little bolder when he sees the color high in Bucky’s cheeks. He kisses Bucky’s jaw, then down his neck and Bucky bares his throat, just for Steve.

“There you go with that smart mouth,” Bucky says, but it’s broken in a lovely way that only eggs Steve on.

It seems so simple now, getting Bucky to turn to putty in his hands, to make him a stuttering, whimpering mess. It’s fun too, to watch him as his mouth goes slack and listen to him moan high and undignified when Steve touches him just right. He’s undone within a matter of minutes, and Steve can’t help but feel proud of himself, with the way that Bucky is breathless and content.

“You’re terrible,” Bucky says, pants around his knees and shirt half unbuttoned. He takes Steve’s jaw firmly in his hands and holds his face in place, looking at him sternly. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Do somethin’ about it,” Steve replies, but it comes out shakier than he had intended.

“Like I said, absolutely terrible,” Bucky repeats, and pulls Steve onto his naked lap with strong arms. Steve’s been admiring those arms for some time now. He holds onto them to steady himself as Bucky strokes him, a little smug but a little sweet. Steve ruts into Bucky’s fist and bites down at the fabric on his shoulder when he comes.

They both breathe hard, on the floor of their apartment, leaning against the sofa. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up. We’re a mess.”

“We sure are,” Steve agrees. “Such a mess.”

They go to the bathroom and wash up, then change their clothes for bed. Steve falls asleep still a little hazy from the alcohol and his orgasm, but he watches Bucky’s breathing even out before his own vision goes dark and blank.

In the morning Steve stretches out his legs under the sheets and to his surprise Bucky is still in bed.

“God, watch it will you? Kickin’ me right in the back of my kneecaps.”

“Sorry Buck, didn’t think you’d still be in bed,” Steve says, and he almost hopes Bucky had stayed in bed because he’d wanted more of Steve. Wouldn’t that be a nice way to wake up?

“Yeah, course I am, my head is killin’ me. Haven’t had a hangover this bad since my eighteenth.”

“Really? I thought you were feeling less drunk by the time we got home.”

Bucky laughs. “Hardly. I barely remember even _getting_ home.” 

“Didn’t seem that wasted. Dang. Wish I woulda known, I wouldn’t have let you drink more when we got back.”

“I drank _more_?” Bucky says, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. He groans.

“You really don’t remember anything after we left the dance hall?”

“I remember Jenny kissed you, good job on that one.” Bucky pokes Steve in the ribs playfully, and usually Steve would have liked that, but now his chest feels cold and his heart is drumming all sick.

“And that’s it?”

“I remember when we started walking back, but after 5th street, I got nothin’. Sandra and I may or may not have gotten into a little trouble at the bar. We did a few shots. I’m surprised she was still standing. She’s trouble, that one.” Bucky’s smirking, even with his eyes squeezed shut tight.

Steve isn’t stupid. He’s seen Bucky blackout drunk. He never does anything too bad, but he gets real giggly and can hardly stand up. He’s not the type of drunk that can fake sobriety, and he certainly wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to get his dick up, let alone hoist Steve up onto his lap and make him feel as nice as he did. It’s actually fairly insulting, that Bucky thinks he can pull one over like this on Steve, like Steve hasn’t known him their whole lives.

“You know, I think I am gonna call Jenny,” Steve announces.

“Good for you.”

“Yeah. She was a real good kisser.”

“Okay lover boy, I’m getting up. I’m fuckin’ starving to death. Ma probably has something if you wanna come with.”

“No, you go. I think she’s getting sick of seeing my face so much.”

“Ma? No, never. She likes you more than me,” Bucky says, pulling on a clean pair of pants. He leaves without another word.

Steve goes back to bed, feeling very stupid for telling Jenny that Bucky was sweet. Maybe he’s got no idea what Bucky’s like.

5.

It’s pouring out. Bucky has been cursing up a storm since the clouds broke open.

“Fuckin’ knew it, and I let you come out here!” Bucky yells over the thunder. He takes his own jacket off and throws it over Steve’s head, which feels dramatic, and Steve doesn’t like the idea of people watching them together, with Bucky’s jacket over his head, and Bucky going without. People talk.

Bucky swings an arm around Steve’s shoulders and they make a run for it back to the apartment.

When they finally make it into the building, Bucky sighs in relief. They climb the stairs with their feet dragging. Bucky is going to pitch a fit, Steve knows it. His hair drips into his eyes. He slicks his palm down over it, agitation already creeping up.

Once the door is closed and the lock is bolted, Steve immediately begins to undress. He’s not gonna wait for Bucky to command him to, carrying on and on about how he’s gonna catch cold if he doesn’t hurry up and get himself dry.

His wet socks hit the floor with a thump, and he tries to resist the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He’s already starting to shiver. Then, he notices Bucky staring at him, in the middle of the room, dripping wet.

“What?” Steve asks, sharper than intended.

Bucky looks down. He bends down and starts to untie his shoelaces, like he’s just now getting with the program. He shakes his head. “Nothin.’ You should go get some towels.”

So Steve does. He comes back and Bucky is naked from the waist up. He hands a towel over. Bucky takes it with white knuckles, and starts to dry off his hair. Always so worried about the hair.

Steve wipes his face off, and then shakes his head, trying to get the water out of his hair.

“Awe, come on! You’re gettin’ the floor all wet!”

Steve huffs. “What’s it matter, I’m gonna get sick anyway. I’m gonna be holed up in bed for two weeks minimum,” he grunts.

“Maybe not, I’ll make some tea. Get dressed.”

Steve shakes his head.

“Like that’ll do any good.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, like he’s working something out in his head. “Okay well…” He trails off, then steps towards Steve and curls his body around him. “Then…maybe I can warm you up.”

Steve immediately wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist. If this is what it takes, fine. He’ll risk pneumonia a hundred times. If this is the stupid game they gotta play, so be it.

Steve fits just right in Bucky’s arms so that he’s at the perfect height to kiss Bucky’s neck. Bucky smells and tastes like rain. Outside, the thunder rolls heavy. Bucky tilts his head down and they kiss. It’s got an innocence to it for all of ten seconds, but Steve feels warm all the way down to his toes after just a minute. He lets his hands wander. Bucky’s got his hands in Steve’s wet hair, and when his fingers come down to trace Steve’s jaw, the skin there feels damp.

“Yeah, I think that’s working,” Steve says. Bucky laughs softly.

Steve doesn’t get sick.

6.

Steve gets home and Bucky rolls over onto his back on the sofa. He puts his book down and smiles.

“How was it?”

Steve tucks his portfolio down in the corner and toes off his shoes.

“Oh, not so bad. I might get a couple offers.”

“You will. For sure.” Bucky is all smiles, and his dimples show up in a truly adorable fashion. It leaves Steve breathless for a minute. He does it before he can think about it too much.

He walks over to the sofa and kneels on the floor. He reaches up and cups Bucky’s face, runs a thumb over Bucky’s bottom lip.

Bucky visibly retracts, his face scrunching up. His beautiful smiling mouth falls gracefully into a frown in seconds, like it’s natural for Bucky to pull away from Steve, ever.

“What’re you doin’?” Bucky asks. Steve snaps his hand away, chest hot and tight. He might do something stupid like cry but of course he doesn’t. Steve hasn’t cried in possibly years. He is certainly not going to do it now.

“What?” Steve asks, voice quiet, but not weak.

“Listen, I gotta get goin’,” Buck says. “I got a date with Zoe.”

“Schneider?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Another Beck setup.”

“Don’t you think Beck’s friends are a little young for you?”

“Only a couple years,” Bucky says, smiling again. “’Sides, Jenny seems old enough for you.”

“We’re the same age,” Steve replies, suppressing an eye roll, irritation bubbling up.

“Well, I gotta go.” Bucky rolls off the couch and heads towards the door. He grabs his coat and gets a pack of smokes out of the breast pocket. He doesn’t light one, but he takes one out with his teeth. “I’ll be back late,” he says, the cigarette muffling his words.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve says. “Have fun.”

Bucky wags his eyebrows. “I will. Get some rest Stevie.”

He turns and walks out, leaving Steve alone.

Steve goes right to bed, feeling like he must be going crazy.

Bucky does get home late. He’s drunk as hell. He smells like perfume and cigarettes and sweat. Steve knows he’s been dancing all night. He’s been pressed up against sixteen year old Zoe Schneider all night, with her pink lipstick and dark ringlets. She’s always had a full mouth with large teeth, her smile taking up her whole face. She’s beautiful, always has been.

Bucky pushes his nose into the nape of Steve’s neck. “You’re awake,” Bucky mutters, his mouth moving against Steve’s hair.

“I am now,” Steve grunts. “You stink.”

Bucky laughs. “You like it.” He runs a hand around Steve’s waist and then up his shirt. He kisses Steve’s hair, then his shoulder, then ducks his head down and works his way down Steve’s neck.

Steve moans lightly. He can’t help it. Bucky laughs again, sly with the way he pushes Steve’s shirt off.

They undress each other, and maybe it shouldn’t happen because Steve is sober and Bucky isn’t. But Bucky’s hands and mouth are clever, and he’s on top of Steve, skin burning.

“Hey, Stevie. I’m gonna try something,” Bucky whispers in the dark. He kisses down Steve’s chest, then stomach, then lower and before Steve can even realize what’s happening he cries out, high pitched and in a way he doesn’t recognize at all. It frightens him, but he doesn’t stop it. He doesn’t stop it because he wants it and he loves Bucky. He should be angry. He should be furious, but instead he runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. He tugs lightly and Bucky whimpers, his mouth all around Steve.

“Oh God,” Steve whispers, and squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn’t matter. _Christ_ , it doesn’t matter.

7.

Jenny is nice. Her Ma has money. She talks and talks but it’s real interesting. She compliments Steve’s art. Says she likes his eyes and his haircuts. Little does she know all his haircuts are Bucky’s doing, usually done over the tub. He finds her company so comforting, like a warm light when she’s around. She kisses soft and playful. He likes her, he does.

8.

Bucky rolls over in their bed. His toes are cold against Steve’s shins. Steve pushes him over a little.

“Knew you weren’t asleep,” Bucky mutters.

“You’re feet are freezing.”

“Yep,” Bucky says, making the ‘p’ pop at the end. He giggles. Steve doesn’t know what it is, but that little sound is what drives him over the edge. He leans over and kisses Bucky hard. Maybe it’s because it’s dark now and they’re half asleep but this time Bucky immediately kisses back. He whimpers, and it gets hot so quick. The sheets tangle beneath them. When Steve reaches between Bucky’s legs he doesn’t go for his dick. He gets two fingers wet with spit and begins to finger Bucky, just to see if he’ll let him. Bucky lets him. He makes sounds Steve didn’t know he was capable of making. Steve about dies, realizing he’s inside of Bucky and that Bucky likes it. That Bucky _loves_ it.

“Let me have you,” Steve whispers into the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies. Steve doesn’t know if he’s agreeing to the demand or if he’s just lost in his pleasure.

In the morning Bucky does not look at Steve.

9.

Jenny had followed Steve home after their walk in the park. She had curled herself around Steve’s arm and placed playful and chaste kisses to his cheek every so often. Steve felt a little like she was parading him around, which he supposed wasn’t such a bad thing. Still felt strange though, to have a girl showing him so much affection.

“So this is your place?” Jenny comments before lighting up a cigarette. Steve had never told her not to in front of him. It was really just Bucky that hated to do it, afraid Steve would start coughing and never stop. Steve never minded it though. He only wished he could smoke more often.

“Home sweet home,” Steve said with a shrug. “It ain’t much, but it’s mine and Buck’s.”

“Did you do this?” Jenny asks, pointing to one of Steve’s still lifes that Bucky had insisted on hanging.

“Yeah.”

“You’re so good! Show me more?”

“Uh, sure. They’re somewhere. Hidden away.”

Jenny runs across the room and throws her arms around Steve. “No! No you have to show me!”

“Awe, Jen, please,” Steve mumbles, face already going hot. “I’m not exactly a professional.” She’s seen a few of his pieces, but Steve doesn’t like to trot out his work.

“But you could be! You’re probably the best I’ve met!”

“You don’t know any other artists,” Steve says, still staring at the floor.

“Doesn’t matter, still counts,” Jenny insists, and raises Steve’s face so he has to look at her with her pointer finger. She kisses him then, delicate at first and then she parts her lips to deepen it. His face goes fully hot and he kisses her back, because he wants to, and because he likes her, and maybe he likes that she’s not so afraid to show him off. “Now, show me your sketch book, I know you’ve got one. You mentioned it the night I met you.”

“Cryin’ out loud,” Steve says, but it’s soft and so he shuffles over to the counter to get it.

They go through it, Steve fully embarrassed by every turn of the page.

“Hey, there’s one of me!” Jenny shrieks, delighted. “I look so much prettier here than in real life, you’re out of your mind if you think my hair has ever looked that good.”

“I just do it from memory you know,” Steve all but whispers.

“So sweet you are. There’s a lot of Bucky here,” she comments, more offhand than accusatory.

“Well, he’s been around the longest,” Steve says, trying to brush it off.

“Gosh, you capture him so well. He’s so handsome that one, and he knows it too,” Jenny says, then snorts.

“You’re not wrong.”

Jenny slides the sketchbook closed and then swings her legs up onto the sofa, draping her thighs across Steve’s lap. “What do you wanna do now?” She smiles wide, playful.

Steve rolls his eyes and then kisses her cheek. “I guess I have an idea of what _you_ wanna do.”

She wraps her arms around Steve’s neck and they kiss for a long while. They’ve been doing this for a while, making out but not going any farther than that. A week ago Jenny had taken Steve’s hand and placed it on her chest, so that he cupped her breast in his palm, and he had nearly choked on his own tongue. She had just laughed at him, teasing him about how much of a gentleman he was. But still, it’s nothing too heated. It’s just nice, all the kissing until their lips are numb.

After a while, Jenny pulls away. “You’re real good at that Steve.” She flattens the wrinkles out of her dress, leaving her legs over Steve’s lap. And then the doorknob turns.

“Hey dollface,” Bucky says, back still turned as he hangs his coat. All the color drains from Steve’s face. He goes cold and looks to Jenny, who is completely unfazed.

“Hiya Bucky,” she says, beaming. Bucky stills, then turns slow. To his credit, he just beams back at her, as if he knew she was here all along.

“Jens, perfect as always.”

“Oh hush. You’re too sweet, the both of you.”

“You wanna stay for dinner?”

“Not at all,” Jenny says, her toothy grin taking up her whole face. “I actually need to be getting home. I’ll raise hell if I’m late.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Steve says immediately, and follows her out the door, catching Bucky’s eye for the briefest of moments, seeing his dark, narrowed gaze for a brief second before he’s got his own jacket on.

It’s not until they’re down the stairs that Jenny says, “You know you don’t have to walk me all the way home.”

“But I like to.”

“I like that you like to.”

She kisses him goodbye at her door and then Steve walks home, hands in his pockets. He tries not to think at all about what he’ll find at home.

When he does walk back through the door, Bucky is laying across the sofa, reading. He looks up at Steve from across the room. “You let her smoke in the apartment.”

“So?”

“So you have asthma.”

“I’m aware, thank you Buck.”

“Did you fuck her in our bed?” Bucky asks, like he’s asking if Steve got a new jacket.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, obviously not.”

“You have though. Fucked her I mean.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I can see, from how she looks at you, all doe eyed.” He looks disgusted as he says it. He’s still looking at his book.

“You are way out of line,” Steve grunts out, anger pulling up in him.

“You could at least let me know when you’re gonna bring her around.”

“I didn’t know she was gonna come over it, it just happened.”

“You just wanted me to see you with her,” Bucky mutters, and that’s the last straw, because it was unintentional, but he’s glad Bucky saw them together. Bucky sure as hell won’t acknowledge him.

“So what?”

“So what, what?”

“So what if I’m glad you saw us together. You’re the one who set me up with her in the first place. Now you’re so surprised it actually worked? That a girl could actually like me?”

“Just tell me when you’re gonna have your little girlfriend over so I don’t make an ass of myself.”

“I’ll tell you every time I see her, and every time I touch her, that’ll go over well.”

There’s a gap of time filled with silence, and all Steve can hear is his own labored breathing. Finally, Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you think about me when you touch her?” He asks, and his eyes are dark. Steve’s face goes hot, but he leans down and takes Bucky’s chin in his fist, holding him there, rougher than Steve usually dares to be but _wants_ to be, all the time.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? If I thought about you when I did. But I don’t.”

“Yeah right.”

Steve laughs, a little unhinged. “I don’t. I really don’t. And that makes you so mad, doesn’t it?”

Bucky opens his mouth and dips his head down, pulling Steve’s thumb into his mouth. Steve tries not to show his surprise. It’s not like he and Bucky haven’t gotten up to a lot worse. But Bucky slides his eyes shut and moans lightly, putting on a show of it. It’s obscene.

Steve can’t even pretend to suppress the moan that falls out of him, naked affection for Bucky falling out, the anger dissipating into desire.

Steve takes his hand away and kisses Bucky. Bucky grabs at the collar of Steve’s shirt, dragging him down onto the sofa. “That’s what I thought,” Bucky grunts, teeth bared against Steve’s jaw.

“Can’t you just shut the fuck up and stop being such an arrogant bastard for five minutes?” Steve says, pushing Bucky down into the couch cushions.

“Can you shut up and stop being a stubborn shit for five minutes?” Bucky replies, then whimpers as the words leave his mouth when Steve reaches down and cups Bucky through his trousers. He’s not hard yet, but he’s getting there, and there’s a soft blush blooming high on his cheekbones.

“You don’t even want me to shut up. You want me to fuck you into the mattress.”

Bucky’s breath comes out shakily. He licks his lips and runs his blunt fingernails up the back of Steve’s skull. “Please. Please fuck me.”

If Steve’s honest, the statement knocks him off his feet. He’s surprised, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he narrows his eyes. “Well, since you asked so nice.”

Steve grabs Bucky roughly by the back of the neck and drags him up off the couch. He grips the collar of Bucky’s shirt and pulls him close, kissing him as they stumble to their little bed. Bucky follows, falling onto the mattress. He whimpers under Steve’s touch. Steve undresses him, presses his weight into Bucky, and for the first time, fucks Bucky and God help him, it’s so good. He loses his breath a few times, and has to stop three times to cough into his elbow, and each time he does, Bucky runs his flat palm down Steve’s back, soothing. For nearly two hours, Steve screws Bucky senseless. They’re both out of their minds by the time they finish, spent and panting, wide eyed and skin shining with sweat.

Bucky hides his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. He holds him close, though it’s far too warm to be huddled up together. Steve hardly recalls what they were fighting about anymore, until Bucky finally speaks, making a sound other than a nearly pained groan or a whisper of Steve’s name.

“Christ, you smell like her fuckin’ shampoo,” Bucky whispers, throwing an arm over his face.

10.

Steve’s so dead he can hardly feel his hands. He has no voice. He coughs wetly.

“How you feelin’?”

“Bad.”

“Wow, you admitted it, you must feel really feel like shit.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky leans forward and kisses his forehead. “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Steve says, half delirious, but still determined to get it out. “Don’t do that if you’re going to act like you didn’t a few hours from now.” His voice is so raspy, it comes out like a whisper. Still, he says it, and keeps his eyes hard.

Bucky leans back. “Okay, Steve.”

11.

Jenny leans away a bit and pulls her hair up out of her face. Steve runs his thumb over her bare thigh. Her stockings are falling down. Her legs are tight around his waist.

“We can’t go any farther than this, Steve.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you, because I do, we just can’t.”

“I understand.”

“So you know why?”

“Yeah, I know why.”

12.

“How do I look?” Bucky asks. He’s been staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for at least twenty minutes.

“You look fine,” Steve says, starting the shading on his still life. It’s nothing interesting. An empty Coke bottle. An orange peel. One of Bucky’s razors.

“ _Fine_. That’s promising.” It’s his third date this month. Steve can’t even recall her name. Roberta? Francie? He wonders if Bucky even remembers all their names.

“You know she’s gonna have a good time. They all just fall all over you. You don’t even have to try.”

“I _do_ try. That’s why they like me.”

“You like courting them, it’s like a game for you, isn’t it?” Steve asks, before he can stop the bitterness in his voice.

Bucky shrugs. “Gotta have fun with it. It’s just two people lookin’ for a good time. I don’t have to marry them right _now_. Besides, what would you know about it?” Bucky asks, looking away from the mirror for the first time in ages and turning his attention to Steve.

“You’re right,” Steve says, all fake cheery from the floor. “I don’t know anything about it.”

13.

“It’s too bad, that Sandra went back to him,” Bucky says, shucking a piece of two days stale bread into his mouth.

“What?”

“Just, you know, you said he used to hit her.”

14.

It’s Jenny’s fault that Steve gets so drunk. They’ve gone out on their own. For once Steve’s got no idea where Bucky is.

“You ever been in love Steve?” Jenny asks, lighting a cigarette.

“Mm, once,” Steve admits.

“Well that one doesn’t count, I already knew about that one.”

“Which one?”

Jenny tilts her head. “I guess I didn’t know about _you_ for sure, was just guessin’. I just knew about your better half.”

Steve is just drunk enough to not feel terror creep up inside of him. Instead, he laughs, and means it. “What are you playin’ at?”

“I sort of thought we were good enough friends now, that you’d tell me.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“Well, not just friends,” she says. She kisses him softly. Steve really does like her. “But, I thought you felt you could trust me.”

“I do.”

“So I’m saying you don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re not serious about us. That’s okay. We’re havin’ fun ain’t we?”

Steve stands still, the road beneath his feet feeling a little unstable. “I am serious about us.”

“No.” Jenny flashes a wide smile.

“No?”

“No.” She says it like she’s happy about it. Like it’s funny. Okay, so maybe it is a little funny. Steve laughs too. Jenny raises her hand out for Steve to take. “Just hold my hand, stupid.”

He does. Her nails are cut short. It’s nice that someone else can see it, at least.

15.

Steve is fine with being the one cracked in two. He’s fine with getting his heart busted over and over, until Bucky does something real, real bad. Steve doesn’t think he even realizes he does it. Bucky just reaches across the kitchen table and takes Steve’s hand. He’s eating rye bread and looking over their current financial standings, shaking his head. Then he looks up at Steve, making his worried eyes go soft.

“We’re not doin’ great, but we’ll be okay. We ain’t gonna starve.”

He squeezes Steve’s hand and starts to whistle. It shouldn’t be so shattering, because the first thing that Bucky ever did was hold Steve’s hand, and maybe that’s why it hurts so bad. Because Steve wants this for always, and in a minute Bucky is gonna pretend it never happened.

Later that night, when Bucky comes home from the docks, he’s needy and desperate, and he climbs on top of Steve in the bed, running his chapped lips down Steve’s throat.

Normally, when Bucky does acts like this, Steve gives in, because he wants to. Because he’s helpless when it comes to Buck, and he likes to pretend that they could be something nice.

Tonight, Steve shoves Bucky’s shoulder, forcing him off. “Get the fuck off me,” Steve says, and the words are harsh but there’s no real heat in his voice. He can’t muster it. He’s too tired.

Bucky rolls over onto his back. “Kay. Coulda just said you weren’t in the mood.”

_I’m in the mood for you to fuck me like you mean it, and not just because I’m here,_ Steve thinks, and wonders how he ever got into this mess.

16.

Steve can hardly stand it. Bucky holds his face in his hands, gentle and sweet. He comes as he kisses the side of Steve’s face. He kisses down Steve’s neck. “You’re so good,” he whispers. “So good.”

Steve goes to clean himself up afterwards. He runs the hot water and washes Bucky’s dried cum off his stomach. Maybe he’s making it up but God, had this time felt different. He tries not to cry as he splashes the warm water over his face and down his neck. He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing.

Steve pulls on clean clothes and sits back on the bed where Bucky still lays, still naked, his breathing finally evening out.

“This can’t happen again.”

“What can’t?” Bucky asks, staring at the ceiling.

“That. Exactly that. Because you know what I’m talking about but act like you don’t. It’s making me fucking sick.”

“Would you get my cigarettes?” Bucky asks, as if Steve hadn’t spoken at all.

Steve lays down, shoulder to shoulder with Bucky. “I mean it. Okay?”

“Fine. We won’t. Shit,” Bucky says, but it’s soft, and he’s trying to come off nonchalant but it isn’t really working. It was never really working, of course, and the fact that he’s keeping up the act almost makes Steve like him less. Almost.

“It just means something else to me than it means to you,” Steve says, but he breaks in the middle. He doesn’t mean to, but it happens anyway. The flush rises immediate as he realizes he’s unable to keep his voice steady.

Bucky’s head whips around, and Steve knows he’s watching him but he really, really doesn’t want to look Bucky in the eye right now.

“What are you talking about?”

“You have to know. You must have known, and if you don’t that might be worse.”

“Steve, hey, what is it?”

Steve shakes his head, but speaks anyway. “I’m in love with you, so I kept letting this happen, kept hoping, and I don’t know if you pity me or just want someone to fool around with but, if the latter is the case I don’t really think that’s fair because the first night is when I said: I’m not messin’ around. I’m not.”

“Steve, I’m not--” Bucky starts, but Steve has broken open a dam, no sign of stopping.

“And you’re such an asshole, because you start it every fucking time Buck! Maybe once or twice it was me but I feel like you’re always starting it, and of course I go along because God, do I want it. I want it so bad, but then it’s over and I feel worse than I ever did when I was just pining after you, because this is worse. I know what you taste like, and what you sound like, and fuck, it is so much worse.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, and it comes out all tight. Steve finally allows himself to look. “Just…no. No, you’re my best guy, huh? Ain’t that right?

“Is it? Cause it kinda seems like you’re just yankin’ me around. And if I could put my feelings aside I’d do this for you too. I’d just fool around because it’s real, real good, but I just can’t.”

They’re quiet for a long time. Finally, Bucky speaks.

“I’m so scared of you.” It’s hardly above a whisper. Bucky clenches and unclenches his fists. “I’m so fuckin’ scared of you.”

“You’re not the only one that’s scared, Buck,” Steve says simply.

“Why couldn’t you just have socked me after first night? Why can’t you just marry her and leave me alone in this apartment?”

“Is that what you want? For me to marry her?”

“Yes. I really do. I can’t give you what you want.”

“I don’t think that I’m asking for a lot,” Steve mutters. “I don’t expect you to act like we’re married, or even that we’re together, because I know we aren’t, but I just need you to stop pretending like something isn’t happening, because if you keep.” Steve stops. For a moment he doesn’t know if he can finish but he barrels forward, just like he always does. “If you keep fucking me like you mean it, and then pretending it didn’t happen minutes later. It’s so fucked. I never know what I’m gonna get with you.”

Bucky swallows audibly. He licks his lips. He takes a breath in that he doesn’t quite finish. He makes a choked sound instead. “Do you think I’m just fucking you?”

“You are fucking me, and then making me think it didn’t mean anything, so yeah, actually,” Steve says, staring at the ceiling. He almost doesn’t care that Bucky looks so broken.

Bucky just shakes his head back and forth. He puts a hand over his face.

“Buck, I’m just describing, I’m not saying anything out of nowhere.”

“I don’t know what to do, you fucking asshole,” Bucky groans, and sits up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve shouts.

“What would you like to do Steve? I’m genuinely asking here!”

“I told you I don’t want you to do anything but acknowledge that we’ve been together!”

“For what reason? What difference does it make?”

“Because I’m losing my mind!”

Steve stands up, his stupid weak heart pounding. He wants to hit Bucky. He really, really does. He’s never felt that before and it’s so frightening.

“Fine, yes, it’s happening, we’ve been together, Jesus fuck, of course we’ve been together. What about it?!”

Bucky’s eyes are bright and wide and he’s angry, but more than anything he’s scared.

“You know what about it,” Steve says, voice low. He leans forward over Bucky. “You know.”

“I wish I could fuckin’ sock you,” Bucky whispers, his jaw clenching.

“Then do it,” Steve shrugs. “I wish you would too.”

“I could never. I’d rather die.”

“No, I think it’d hurt less. You hate me so just hit me, I’m used to it.” He shoves Bucky. “Hit me!”

“Steve, stop!” Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Just do it, you coward, hit me!” He shoves Bucky again, twice, the second time with as much force as he can muster, which isn’t much because he’s weak with exhaustion and he might be crying, he’s not sure.

“Steve, god dammit, stop it, stop!” He grabs Steve’s wrists, rough and it almost hurts. It doesn’t.

Bucky pulls Steve close. He drops his wrists and wraps his hands around his waist. Steve goes limp.

“I’m so sick of this. I hate this.”

“I just didn’t think I actually had to say it. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t know I had to say it.” He’s saying it so quiet into Steve’s chest. His lips are warm.

“Please don’t do this to me unless you mean it, I can’t take it.” Steve is so tired. So very, very tired.

“I just thought it was obvious. Even before. I thought you knew before I even put my hand out. I thought you knew back in ’34. When I wouldn’t leave you alone after you were so sick. And you recovered but I was around you so much you nearly bit my head off. I was always touching you and you would bat me away.” Bucky laughs. “I never really stopped, did I?”

“You still can’t even say it. I don’t know what I’m doing. I love you, what more can I do?”

“The way I feel for you, it’s not right. It’s messed up.” Bucky folds in on himself, wrapping his arms around himself.

“You’re such a fucking coward,” Steve says, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“Finally you’re seeing it my way.”

17.

Bucky leaves for work early. He comes home late. He comes home drunk more often than not. Steve spends his nights with Jenny. They spend evenings in bars, chatting about nothing and everything at once.

For five months Steve and Bucky do not touch.

18.

Bucky falls into bed. He doesn’t smell of liquor for once. He just smells like cigarettes and cold night air. His weight shifts in the darkness.

“Does she love you?”

“No,” Steve says bluntly, laying on his side, staring at the wall.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes, but not like that. She’s my friend. We were always mainly just friends, you know.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Not really. It’s nice to have a friend.”

“Are we still friends?”

“We’ll always be friends, Buck.”

“Okay.”

Steve falls asleep.

19.

It’s raining in the morning. The bed is cold.

Steve finds an old sweater in the closet and pulls it on. He shuffles his bare feet out of the bedroom and out into the kitchen. Bucky is at the kitchen table, sewing a loose button back onto his coat. As soon as he sees Steve he puts the needle and thread down.

“Sit down, will you?”

So Steve sits. He waits. He inspects a nick in the table.

“Do you think I could try again?” Bucky asks.

“Try what?” Steve sighs. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough for this.

“Try lovin’ you right. Cause I think I kind of fucked up the first time.”

Steve laughs. He places his hand on the table, palm up, fingers splayed out, waiting.

_we were barely awake in the heat of the days, wake high,_ _  
wake to say my sorry longings for your rolling over and yet  
here i sweat,  
somehow familiar with needs that are never met  
how does one so young become  
so fed up with hunger?_

Fed Up With Hunger, Saintseneca

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me @ dykecrowleys on tumblr, come scream about superheroes with me


End file.
